and Ludovico was gay, without forgetting the respectful distance which was due to his companions. The repast being over, Du Pont recommended Emily to endeavour to sleep during these sultry hours, and desiring the servants would do the same, said he would watch the while; but Ludovico wished to spare him this trouble; and Emily and Annette, wearied with travelling, tried to repose, while he stood guard with his trombone.

When Emily, refreshed by slumber, awoke, she found the sentinel asleep on his post, and Du Pont awake, but lost in melancholy thought. As the sun was yet too high to allow them to continue their journey, and as it was necessary that Ludovico, after the toils and trouble he had suffered, should finish his sleep, Emily took this opportunity of inquiring by what accident Du Pont became Montoni's prisoner; and he, pleased with the interest this inquiry expressed, and with the excuse it gave him for talking to her of himself, immediately answered her curiosity.

I came into Italy, Madam, said Du Pont, in the service of my country. In an adventure among the mountains, our party, engaging with the bands of Montoni, was routed, and I, with a few of my comrades, was taken prisoner. When they told me whose captive I was, the name of Montoni struck me; for I remembered that Madame Cheron, your aunt, had married an Italian of that name, and that you had accompanied them into Italy. It was

not, however, till some time after, that I became convinced this was the same Montoni, or learned that you, Madam, was under the same roof with myself. I will not pain you by describing what were my emotions upon this discovery, which I owned to a sentinel, whom I had so far won to my interest, that he granted me many indulgences,

You

one of which was very important to me, and some what dangerous to himself; but he persisted in refusing to convey any letter, or notice of my situation, to you; for he justly dreaded a discovery, and the consequent vengeance of Montoni. He however enabled me to see you more than once. are surprised, Madam: and I will explain myself. My health and spirits suffered extremely from want of air and exercise; and at length I gained so far upon the pity, or the avarice, of the man, that he gave me the means of walking on the terrace.

Emily now listened with very anxious attention to the narrative of Du Pont, who proceeded:

In granting this indulgence, he knew that he had nothing to apprehend from a chance of my escaping from a castle which was vigilantly guarded, and the nearest terrace of which rose over a perpendicular rock he showed me also, continued Du Pont, a door concealed in the cedar wainscot of the apartment where I was confined, which he instructed me how to open; and which, leading into a passage formed within the thickness of the wall that extended far along the castle, finally opened in an obscure corner of the eastern rampart. I have since been informed that there are many passages of the same kind concealed within the prodigious walls of that edifice, and which were undoubtedly contrived for the purpose of facilitating escapes in time of war. Through this avenue, at the dead of night, I often stole to the terrace, where I walked with the utmost caution, lest my steps should betray me to the sentinels on duty in distant parts; for this end of it, being guarded by high buildings, was not watched by soldiers. In one of these midnight wanderings I saw light in a casement that overlooked the rampart, and which, I observed, was immediately over my prison-chamber. It occurred

to me, that you might be in that apartment; and with the hope of seeing you, I placed myself opposite to the window.

Emily, remembering the figure that had formerly appeared on the terrace, and which had occasioned her so much anxiety, exclaimed, It was you, then, Monsieur Du Pont, who occasioned me much foolish terror! my spirits were at that time so much weakened by long suffering, that they took alarm at every hint. Du Pont, after lamenting that he had occasioned her any apprehension, added: As I rested on the wall opposite to your casement, the consideration of your melancholy situation, and of my own, called from me involuntary sounds of lamentation, which drew you, I fancy, to the casement: I saw there a person whom I believed to be you. O! I will say nothing of my emotion at that moment; I wished to speak, but prudence restrained me, till the distant footstep of the sentinel compelled me suddenly to quit my station.

It was some time before I had another opportunity of walking, for I could only leave my prison when it happened to be the turn of one man to guard me; meanwhile I became convinced, from some circumstances related by him, that your apartment was over mine; and when again I ventured forth, I returned to your casement, where again I saw you, but without daring to speak. I waved my hand, and you suddenly disappeared; then it was that I forgot my prudence, and yielded to lamentation: again you appeared-you spoke- I heard the wellknown accent of your voice! and at that moment my discretion would have forsaken me again, had I not heard also the approaching steps of a soldier, when I instantly quitted the place, though not before the man had seen me. He followed down the terrace, and gained so fast upon me that I was

compelled to make use of a stratagem, ridiculous enough, to save myself. I had heard of the superstition of many of these men, and I uttered a strange noise, with a hope that my pursuer would mistake it for something supernatural, and desist from pursuit. Luckily for myself, I succeeded; the man, it seems, was subject to fits, and the terror he suffered threw him into one, by which accident I secured my retreat. A sense of the danger I had escaped, and the increased watchfulness which my appearance had occasioned among the sentinels, deterred me ever after from walking on the terrace; but in the stillness of night I frequently beguiled myself with an old lute, procured for me by a soldier, which I sometimes accompanied with my voice, and sometimes, I will acknowledge, with a hope of making myself heard by you: but it was only a few evenings ago that this hope was answered; I then thought I heard a voice in the wind, calling me; yet, even then, I feared to reply, lest the sentinel at the prison-door should hear me. Was I right, Madam, in this conjecture-was it you who spoke ?

Yes, said Emily with an involuntary sigh; you was right indeed.

Du Pont, observing the painful emotions which this question revived, now changed the subject. In one of my excursions through the passage which I have mentioned, I overheard a singular conversation, said he.

In the passage! said Emily with surprise.

I heard it in the passage, said Du Pont; but it proceeded from an apartment adjoining the wall, within which the passage wound, and the shell of the wall was there so thin, and was also somewhat decayed, that I could distinctly hear every word spoken on the other side. It happened that Mon

toni and his companions were assembled in the room, and Montoni began to relate the extraordinary history of the lady his predecessor in the castle. He did, indeed, mention some very surprising circumstances, and whether they were strictly true, his conscience must decide; I fear it will determine against him. But you, Madam, have doubtless heard the report, which he designs should circulate, on the subject of that lady's mysterious fate.

I have, Sir, replied Emily, and I perceive that you doubt it.

I doubted it before the period I am speaking of, rejoined Du Pont ;-but some circunstances, men, tioned by Montoni, greatly contributed to my suspicions. The account I then heard almost convin, ced me that he was a murderer. I trembled for you; the more so that I had heard the guests mention your name in a manner that threatened your repose; and, knowing that the most impious men are often the most superstitious, I determined to try whether I could not awaken their consciences, and awe them from the commission of the crime I dreaded. I listened closely to Montoni, and in the most striking passages of his story I joined my voice, and repeated his last words in a disguised and hollow tone, But was you not afraid of being discovered? said Emily.

I was not, replied Du Pont; for I knew that if Montoni had been acquainted with the secret of this passage, he would not have confined me in the apartment to which it led. I knew also, from better authority, that he was ignorant of it. The party for some time appeared inattentive to my voice; but at length were so much alarmed that they quitted the apartment; and having heard Montoni order his servants to search it, I returned to my pri son, which was very distant from this part of the